The Billionaires Pawn Novels & Stories

Louise said. "Pepper eater?" I wondered. "Eats pepper. That animal always has pepper in his teeth," Louise answered, making me shake my head. Louise and I spoke clearly for a moment. She told the whole gossip about Joseph. It is said that someone also leaked the video just now of them kissing in a bar. Joseph is rich and a millionaire so he is a famous person. "You know, we'll just drink that pain away. Come with us and let's go to a bar! What do you say, girls?" Louise said and turned to Mercedes.

The virtual avatar responded, "Don’t worry, miss. This pawnshop accepts one-sided love too." "We’ve detected that your love meets our pawning standards." "Would you like to proceed with pawning your love?" As soon as the words left its mouth, a pop-up appeared on the screen. "Please confirm whether you wish to pawn your love." At the bottom of the window were two options laid out: "Confirm" and "I’ll Think About It". I pursed my lips. Since I couldn’t do it myself, I decided to let the Love Pawnshop handle it for me.

Love rather than Leverage "Well, that's certainly a headline," Darren whistled, tossing the magazine onto the penthouse coffee table. *'From Contract to Covenant: The Vanderbilt Love Story That Reshaped an Empire'* blazed across the cover, accompanied by the now-iconic photo of Lucas and Sophia with the twins in the morning light. "The stock's up twelve percent," Susan reported, not looking up from her tablet. At three months old, Cat was dozing in her arms while she worked, a common sight these days. "And the wedding planning inquiries have tripled."

He snaps as he grabs the handles of the bag dragging them separately back towards the table area. “Now untie him,” I raise my hands back up. “You have your money.” He keeps the gun trained on me as he kneels and unzips the first bag. Stacks of cash and vacuum sealed bundles spilled out. He opens the second which has the Diamonds in velvet pouches and Bearer bonds tucked between layers. He rifles through it. “What is this? What am I? A pawn shop? Where are the rest?” “It’s two hundred and fifty million in liquid assets,” I reply. “Roughly one fifty in cash, fifty in bonds and fifty in stones, just take it and go. It’s the best you are getting on short notice.”

“It’s an honor to meet you.” He knew my name, I was surprised because I didn’t know who he was then. “Darren Maxwell.” His name fell off his lips so eloquently He told me he was a philanthropist and business investor and that his company had just acquired three oil fields in West Texas. That he was looking for joint philanthropic projects. He said all the right things, very intelligently, polished and well-spoken. But more than that, he listened. Or at least, pretended to. And in that moment, I let my guard down.

This thing cost over three hundred thousand dollars. My fingers hovered just above it. The diamonds sparkled like ice. I couldn’t believe it was real. “I can’t wear this. It’s too much. It’s Sabrina’s day, not mine—” I said, fighting the urge to lift it up and try it. “I want you to wear it every chance you get,” Richard said, flipping it over. There, on the platinum, was an engraving: “You are mine – R.A.” I stared, smiling. “So… it’s a collar.”

“Shut up.” But Nadia only smirked, her confidence unwavering. “Do you know what happens to people who kidnap someone like me?” She looked at them one by one, her dark eyes glinting with challenge. “My fiancé is Theodore Thatcher. A billionaire. A man with more power than you can imagine.” The men stiffened at the mention of his name. Nadia saw it—the flicker of unease, the way one of them clenched his fists. “I can already picture it,” she continued, her tone almost teasing. “All of you? Rotting in prison. And not just any prison—you’ll never get out. Not with the kind of resources Theodore has.”

“How famous is your family?” Xavier’s brows rose, though there was no mockery in his expression. “That depends on who you ask.” Joe, who had returned with another pot of tea, looked as though he was trying not to smile. “I mean it,” I said. “I knew you were wealthy, but I did not know it was like this.” “That it was this much?” Xavier asked. I lowered my eyes. “Yes.” He leaned back in his chair. “The Combs name is old money, Sharon. My grandfather built the foundation, my father expanded it, and I run the business now. Technology is only one part of it.”

Leo whispered, scratching itchy hoodie, "we will be happy in penthouse later, with no mold, but with memory of mold. Like your parents happy in penthouse now with memory of instant noodles. Mold is our instant noodles." "Do you think our baby will hate billionaires too?" Rose asked, hand on still-flat stomach, false alarm last month but now trying for real? No, not yet, art school first. "Our baby will hate billionaires but have £240B and two buildings for strollers. And will wear Primark under Dior. And will say No as first word, like your brother." Rose laughed, kissed him, itchy pajamas rustling. Outside mold flat window, in Shoreditch rain, two black Bentleys parked far, with two billion

Magazines call him The Good Billionaire. He placed box on glass. Inside not bearer bonds, but USB and letter: $300 MILLION FOR BLACKWOOD TECH PARK + PARTNERSHIP WITH SINCLAIR. Maya, blood-red back, whispered, "Flew from Silicon Valley this morning. Wants to buy tech park loan you restructured. Wants to meet Chairwoman who builds twenty shelters and sells six-dollar potatoes. Says he watched Plaza video ten times." I wore ivory again, not camel, because rival deserves Chairwoman, not shelter manager. Pearl studs mother left in ears, bracelet hidden, recipe card taped to glass wall behind tickers green six percent since expansion.